


The Prick Trick

by sorion



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: AU, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, M/M, Parody, Satire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorion/pseuds/sorion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fairytale AU. The Sleeping Beauty has been sleeping for 100 years, and a kiss just won't cut it... (Prompt filled)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prick Trick

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011 for the **[Pinto Pornapalooza II – August 2011](http://pintopalooza.livejournal.com/1496.html)**

  


Christopher Whitelaw of Pine XIV (For heaven’s sake just call him Chris, will you! He hates being reminded of the fact that the inbred morons he is forced to call family haven’t been able to come up with a new name for _fourteen generations in a row_ , and will then have to be grateful that for whatever reasons the fates have decided to grace him with a usable brain. He doesn’t like to be grateful, not while having to live in the once – about a millennium before – great kingdom of Pine. It was more like a madhouse these days; a madhouse that by sheer, dumb luck managed to be placed in the most fruitful part of the planet that not even the collective might of his relatives – dead or otherwise – managed to ruin.) was in desperate need of a spouse, for reasons unknown (*ahem*).

Okay, the reasons were not unknown. He just wanted to get his delectable ass out of the country. He even had hopes that maybe – just maybe – he’d be able to direct his homeland’s destiny from the outside if he managed to make a profitable match. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been a Whitelaw in over a century who hadn’t been married off to the next best eligible and buck-toothed cousin.

Then there was that _other_ issue he was dealing with. He wouldn’t have minded the buck-toothed cousins all _that_ much if at least they had been male. But, more’s the pity, blue-blooded families tended to only allow their offspring to marry same-sex partners if there was absolutely no other option. Meaning, bad teeth were generally the least of their failings.

Chris’ family really only agreed on him looking for a prince instead of a princess because he threatened to run off with the first hot and topless stable boy he encountered, kingdom be damned. He could have pulled it off _and_ afforded it, since he had long since prepared his sooner or later impending escape. The money he had generated with the lands he had been given at the tender age of sixteen was safely hidden away from any blundering relatives in other more industrious countries.

The only reason he was still in the castle was that… unfortunately… he loved his home. And while his sister had made an okay match, it would still mean that the future king would not be a Whitelaw. (That might have been a good idea, but the family of the prince consort wasn’t really as blessed as his brother in law – cousins, remember? Nothing would ever change.)

*

This situation would probably have guilt-tripped Prince Christopher Whitelaw of Pine XIV to one day marry a female, buck-toothed cousin, after all, had his sister not pulled him into her room one early morning.

Chris rubbed his arm and stared at his sister. (She had a mean grip, that one.) 

“What?” he asked, now definitely wanting to know why Katharina was bouncing with something that looked like a wanted poster in her hands.

She shoved the paper at him. “Read this!”

Chris looked at the paper. Oh, not that old story again. _Prince Zachary of the Five Realms of Quinto, blahblah, still asleep, blahblah, vicious spell, blahblah, true love’s kiss, blahblah, last remaining relative almost one hundred years old, blahblah..._

Oh, hold on. _Desperate search for right partner expanded to **male contestants**._ Well, wasn’t that interesting.

His sister grinned at him when he looked up. “See? Since the spell includes sleep for the prince and infertility for all royal relatives, they’re getting really desperate. You could rule the Five Realms of Quinto!” she squealed as only a woman can at the prospect of true (man) love.

Chris sceptically raised an eyebrow.

Katharina huffed. “Oh, come on! There’s only the one relative left, and they got really lucky that he was conceived right before the spell, but he won’t live much longer, and after that...” she waved her hands, “... poof! There go the Five Realms to the highest bidder.”

“Yeah, I get all that,” Chris said. “But nobody’s been able to wake the sleeping beauty – if he’s still a beauty after damn near a hundred years – so what makes you think I’ll be able to?”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “He is _too_ a beauty!” With that she turned around and rummaged through the chest at the foot of her bed, and Chris rolled his eyes, knowing too well that he was about to be subjected to...

“It says so in _In-Royalty Weekly_ that Princess Mia tried to kiss him just last month and she was full of praise...”

“I know, I know. Hot, sleepy prince made her run away with some flagship captain because of heartbreak. You told me! You even showed me the pictures!”

She sauntered over to him, waving the _In-Royalty Weekly_ with the prince in question prominently painted on the front. “And you can’t tell me that this tasty piece doesn’t get you all hot and bothered...”

“Still doesn’t mean he’ll wake when I kiss him!”

“And you won’t even try?” She looked at him incredulously. “This could be your one and only chance, Chris!”

He sighed. It did seem that way, didn’t it? That was why he was so reluctant. If nothing was at stake, he’d jump at the chance for fun, but like this...

“What have you got to lose?”

She had him there. Still... “Hope?”

“Hope dies last, unless you kill it right now.”

 

Which was why Chris was on his noble steed, galloping towards the Five Realms a mere two hours later. Apart from food, his sister had issued him with every piece of _’information’_ on Prince Zachary she could find, all of them colourfully illustrated (and just as colourfully worded).

The first night of his journey, he looked through not only _In-Royalty Weekly_ , but _Princess Diaries_ , _The Glass Slipper_ and, much to his confusion, _Rose Garden_. Though the last one started to make sense once he got to the fascinating little titbit that Quinto Castle was apparently infested by... **’RIOTING ROSE BUSHES OF DOOM!’** or so _The Glass Slipper_ claimed in a headline.

Chris thought that maybe he should invest in a machete or something along the way.

He found some more back story in _Princess Diaries_. Apparently, the prince had refused to marry at the appropriate age, and marriage was part of the deal the king his father had made with some stupid fairy or other, so... Prince Zachary had made acquaintance with a blood-demanding prick, thus breaking the deal with the fairy and bringing forth the curse of sleep and infertility.

Then there was a huge article about how the king had tried to avoid any of that happening by getting rid of all... _spinning wheels and spindles_?

Chris stared for a long second, then burst out laughing.

“You should have gotten rid of the stable boys, while you were at it...” Still chuckling, he shook his head. Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea that male contestants should be allowed to try their luck.

Ah, well, this was what you got when you let the tabloids run loose for a hundred years: fairy tales.

*

After a week’s travel, Chris reached the first of the Five Realms (still giggling every now and again when he thought of _’spindles’_ ) and stated his business at the border.

He was eagerly waved through. It seemed that he was the first prince to try his luck, since all the others had been of the opinion that fairy tales were like totally gay.

It took him another week to reach the Realm in the middle – the third one, obviously – where Quinto Castle was located, and another three days to get to the rioting rose bushes of doom.

Some bored looking bouncer in a counter booth at the edge of the roses made Chris sign a certificate that he was in full possession of his mental faculties and agreed to brave the thorns of his own free will and without additional help.

“TheRealmwillgrantyouthehandofthePrinceinmarriageandtheruleoftheFiveRealmsofQuintoshouldthePrinceawaken.”

Chris blinked.

“Iamcertifiedtoansweranyquestionsyoumighthave.”

Chris blinked some more.

“Youhavenoquestionsverygoodyoumaypassgoodluck.” He stamped the crest of the royal family onto the signed document and handed the duplicate over to Chris.

Chris took the piece of paper and hadn’t even turned away when the bouncer propped his chin on his hand again, once more doing his level best to look even more bored than he sounded.

He closed in on the wall of thorns and roses, ready to wield his machete when... the bushes parted. Chris tilted his head back to the booth, but he couldn’t make out the bouncer, so he continued.

 

The bouncer however, clearly used to screams the first moment someone tried to enter, poked his head out of his booth after a suspiciously long period of silence and stared. And then stared for a moment longer, as the bushes opened before and closed behind the new prince until he was no longer visible.

He jumped out of the booth, closed the shutter and put up the _’closed for lunch’_ sign (even though it was well into the afternoon) and sprinted off to the nearest possibility to share the gossip.

 

Chris for his part thought that the reports of the rioting rose bushes of doom were vastly exaggerated. Sure, every now and again the thorns of one of the branches ripped his silk shirt a bit, but all in all, he just walked through and thanked the rose forest politely for not trying to kill him. Sometimes, he could make out a skeleton or two hanging somewhere in the branches, wearing princess dresses, but those unfortunates had been unfortunate a long time ago, and Chris wandered onwards, wondering yet again why the hell nobody had ever had the idea to let princes in, if princesses got so unlucky.

 

The castle itself was visible through the bushes only a minute before Chris reached it and the gates swung open immediately to grant him entry.

All the torches and candles lit up the moment his foot touched the interior, and to his utmost surprise, there was no dust, no cobwebs, no bugs and the likes... the castle appeared as if it had been in use the whole time and did not look like the abandoned masonry it had been for a hundred years.

Chris pulled out one copy of _The Glass Slipper_ and peered at it.

“Tallest tower, huh?” He skimmed it some more. “East tower. Okay, then...” He looked around. “Stairs.”

Purposefully he marched towards the stairs opposite the side where he could still make out the sun shining in.

He ran up two steps at a time, feeling like he should have _some_ reason to breathlessly and heroically barge into the prince’s chambers, since the roses (thankfully) hadn’t provided another one.

In the end, he didn’t barge into the room, after all; he couldn’t make himself. Instead, he stared at the solid wood for long minutes, remembering that this would be the moment in which hope could die, regardless of what he did.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. He would be damned if he killed his only hope himself!

Out of some weird sense of propriety, he closed the door behind himself again and leaned against it for a second.

Deeper inside the room, he could make out the sleeping figure of a man behind the veiled curtains of his lush four-poster bed.

Chris haltingly ventured forward, watching the man through the curtains that were moved slightly by the evening breeze through the open window. Chris touched the curtains with hesitant fingers as he walked around the bed, taking in all the angles, before daring to push aside the final barrier.

He stood silently with his hand outstretched to keep the curtains parted, unable to look away.

Prince Zachary was... _beautiful_. Chris had often thought about how someone would look who had been asleep for a hundred years, but the prince looked like he had just fallen into Morpheus’ arms, his chest rising and falling gently, a tender blush on his cheek, a soft smile on his lips...

Oh, dear lord. If he wasn’t careful, Chris would end up eloping with some flagship captain because of heartbreak, too.

Forcing himself out of his stupor, Chris finally dared to sit on the edge of the bed and with a trembling hand reached for one of the prince’s lying on the white covers. Again, time seemed to stop for the longest moments, as Chris felt the warmth of the other man and took in his sleeping visage.

“Would you wake for me, Zachary?” Chris asked quietly. “Or should I just stop believing in fairy tales and grow up?”

Prince Zachary moved slightly in his sleep and turned his head towards Chris.

Chris’ eyes widened and his grip on Zachary’s hand tightened. He had read all those stupid tabloids his sister had made him take along, and none of those had ever mentioned the sleeping prince _moving_!

“Prince Zachary?”

But the prince made no more efforts to gain even more attention than he already had and remained still.

Chris used his free hand to brush dark strands from the sleeping beauty’s forehead and leaned closer.

“How many princesses have kissed those lips without rousing you?”

And then, fear of failure held no meaning anymore, and Chris could no longer resist kissing the lips before him.  
The lips were soft and warm, and a small sigh escaped them as Chris tenderly claimed them.

For all the beauty of that moment, however, the eyes did not open to reveal brown orbs that Chris knew must have been hidden beneath the lids.

Chris’ vision blurred at the sight of his sleeping prince.

“Why won’t you wake for me?” he whispered, two tears escaping and dripping onto Prince Zachary’s cheeks. “Please, Zach,” he said, leaning in again for yet another kiss.

When Chris was forced to acknowledge that the prince was not waking and he broke the kiss, he could make out a tiny moan that was decidedly not his own. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision and noticed something that was almost a frown on the prince’s forehead.

“Zach?”

The prince’s breath hitched and his eyelids twitched.

“Oh, my God! Zach!”

But then the prince grew still again and the frown smoothed away.

“NO! Zach!” Chris leaned in to kiss the other man again, desperately this time, allowing his tongue to taste the lips that he had only brushed before.

And then the small moan was back... and... and... the lips moved! Chris was absolutely certain that the lips moved!

“Don’t slip away,” Chris murmured onto the other’s lips, before claiming them again. “Stay with me. Stay…”

There was no doubt that Prince Zachary was leaning into the kiss, moved his head to follow the lips, even tightened his fingers ever so slightly in Chris’ hand.  
Chris broke the kiss once more to observe any changes, and the prince’s frown looked… as if he was fighting, fighting an invisible prison.

Chris pressed another firm kiss into the lips, swearing fiercely, “I will not give up. I will not leave. You will wake for me, or I will perish by your side, my prince.”

With that, Chris lowered his head to deeply kiss his chosen – conquering, no longer questioning. He could feel the prince reciprocate, even his tongue mate with his own, his fingers caressing his… but whenever Chris opened his eyes, the prince’s – even though they twitched urgently – remained closed.

Chris stopped looking for visual signs and concentrated on all his other senses. He kissed the prince with vigour, finally let go of the man’s hand to roam over his neck and chest, pushing down the thin cover. The prince wore nothing but the gossamer of a button-down nightgown, and Chris could make out every angle and every curve hidden beneath it.

Chris kissed a trail from the prince’s neck down his chest, opened the buttons as he went along, now continuously accompanied by enticing whimpers and moans. While the prince’s eyes didn’t open, his body arched into the touch, shivered at every caress and trembled whenever Chris brushed over a long since untouched sensitive spot.

Chris licked, kissed and nipped; he feasted on the prince, cherishing every inch of exposed skin. The sleeping prince smelled and tasted freshly bathed due to his stasis, but all remnants of soap or expensive perfumes had long since vanished, leaving only his true essence that made Chris’ head swim. The taste and smell and touch was so very familiar, so very compelling. As were the prince’s reactions. Muscles trembled, breathing became laboured, and the skin – almost as if waking slowly – built a thin sheen of sweat, making it gleam from the waning sun and shiver in the flickering candle light.

When Chris parted the final part of the nightgown, it became quite clear that his first impression was correct: this was one body that was waking. Waking quite impressively, too, at that.

With a reverent hand, Chris stroked the entire length of the growing member. He grinned, first at the dick in his hand and then at the prince’s face when he heard a hearty moan. He stroked again, experimentally, glowing with pride as the prince’s undulating hips met his movements.

“Your little prince likes me,” Chris said, still grinning, then leaned in to kiss a wet trail along one side of the hardened flesh from the base to the top. “That’s good, because I do believe I like him too.”

With that, he closed his lips over the tip and twisted his tongue around it, his hands gripping the base and cupping the balls, respectively.

“Oh,” escaped the prince’s mouth, and Chris redoubled his efforts, now lying between the other’s legs, focusing on nothing but giving pleasure.

Chris once more kissed downwards, laving the balls and massaging the thighs with both hands.

“If a prick put you to sleep, maybe it’s not a kiss that will wake you up, after all...” he said, and – as if the sleeping prince could hear every word – the thighs parted further and the hips rolled upwards, granting Chris every access he could wish for.

“I’m going to take that as a Yes,” he decided and used his thumbs to spread the cheeks, making way for his tongue. And if Chris feasted before, he _devoured_ now. He swirled his tongue and breached the tight hole, licking, tasting, twisting, suckling, making the prince tremble with need and the thighs fall open as far as they would go.

“ _Chris_...”

Chris froze and looked up from between the legs, panting. The other’s eyes were still closed, but...

“Zach?”

Prince Zachary whimpered, desperately, and Chris crawled over his body to smooth both hands over the dark hair and look into the sleeping face.

“I’m here, Zach. _God_ , I am so here.”

Chris reached down with one hand, unmade the fastenings of his pants with nimble fingers and freed his leaking dick from the restricting material.

He would have looked for some sort of oil or ointment, but the prince’s urgency called to him through all his senses, down to his soul if he had one, and he had never believed as much as he did in that moment.

He lifted his hips enough so that he could spit on his hand and coat his dick, which was as much preparation as either of their bodies allowed. Then he guided his throbbing cock into its proper sheath, the tight heat engulfing him like no other had ever before. The fire seared through him, purging away every lover, every flighty fancy, every lustful look, leaving only _this_. _His_ prince. His perfect match that was milking his dick with every forceful thrust.

This was it. This love was worth _dying_ for, and Chris would know none other, ever again.

Holding one strong leg bent with his arm, Chris leaned down to claim his intended’s gasping lips, thrusting his tongue into the wet cavern of the prince’s mouth in the same, bruising rhythm in which his hips marked the firm ass.

And then there it was... soft but sure arms returned his hold and slung around his shoulders. Fingers ran through his golden locks, and legs wrapped around his torso.

Chris sobbed into the kiss and opened his eyes to look into a sea of molten chocolate, staring adoringly back at him.

“Chris...” the raspy voice said, again, this time unmistakeably.

“Oh, God.”

Zach’s eyes rolled back in his head and closed again, not in sleep but in abandon, and he threw back his head, as a loud groan escaped him. “Yes!” he yelled, laughingly, finally awake to _feel_ , feel his mate that he had longed for. “Oh, Chris, yes!”

Chris sped up his thrusts, unable to move anywhere but closer and deeper, following the demands of Zach’s words and his body. He bent down to kiss and bite the offered neck, adding new bruises to the ones his fingers had left on the thighs.

Zach lifted his head to grin at Chris as one of his hands sneaked between their bodies to stroke himself.

Chris returned the feral grin. “Oh, yes. Come on, do it.”

Zach’s expression said, _’Oh, I **am** doing it...’_ as clearly as his voice would have. What he did say out loud was a growled, “Fuck me.”

Chris pounded the willing ass, leaving all reservations behind, his orgasm taking him with such force that he was unable to even hear his prince follow him as he spilled his seed inside Zach’s sore hole.

 

When Zach opened his eyes, still panting heavily, it was to the clearest blue of the first morning framed by sunlight, bending over him with love radiating from every cell.

“I know you,” he said, though he didn’t know why. The morning’s blue disappeared momentarily, only to reappear with glistening tears and a trembling laugh.

“You’re awake...”

Zach lifted a hand to run hesitant fingers over his saviour’s cheek. “I know you,” he repeated. “I was waiting for you.”

Chris grinned sheepishly. “Yeah... sorry I’m late.”

Zach chuckled and beamed at him, and then pulled him into a deep kiss, both still joined intimately but decidedly disinclined to move.

 

And they lived happily ever after! 

… But not before making the front page of _In-Royalty Weekly_ , _Princess Diaries_ , _The Glass Slipper_ and every other half-assed tabloid that then gushed over their true love’s first kiss. Because, duh, there _was_ a kiss, after all. And a prick. Sort of.

 

**The End ;)**

_110818_


End file.
